Thursday, July 13, 2006

Orange Fennel Rye Bread

This is a dense, sweet, moist bread. It makes the most delicious toast I've ever encountered, but it's also good with an assertive cheese—strong crumbly cheddar, stilton, something like that. You can also make a fine sandwich with it. But it is not a sophisticated food. I bet it has never been made in Paris. This is a bread for homey meals eaten in the kitchen. But knock yourself out and cut it into toast points if you must. Maybe it's fantastic with caviar. Let me know.

I wrote it down first in 1994, and I know I got it from my mother, who I think may have gotten it from a Beth Hensperger book. How's that for responsible attribution?

Combine the sugar, warm water and yeast in a small bowl. Let it sit for a few minutes, until it gets foamy.

In a large bowl, combine the warm milk, juice, molasses, oil, and by-now-foamy yeast mixture.

Vigorously mix the rye flour into the liquid above, until it's uniformly goopy and brown and looks just like... Well, never mind what it looks like now. It'll be handsome and delicious soon enough.

Add the all-purpose flour a cup at a time, stirring with a wooden spoon. Once the dough holds together in one big clump around the spoon (you might have used anywhere from 3 to 4.5 cups of flour), it's ready to be freed.

Dump the lump out onto a floured board, and knead it for 5 minutes or so. During this process, when it starts to stick to your hands and the board, add more flour, a tablespoon at a time.

Once kneaded, put the dough into a oiled bowl, turn it over to enrobe it in oil, and cover the bowl with plastic wrap.

Now it's Choose Your Own Adventure time. To continue baking, and be eating bread as soon as possible, go to item A. To go to bed and finish the blasted bread in the morning, go to item B.

A:So you want bread, do you? Alright. Put the bowl of dough in a warm place. Well, really, just not a cold place. The counter is probably fine. Is your heat working? Do you live in a tent in the Arctic? Does your air conditioning keep your house at penguin-friendly temperatures? Really? Are you Mr. Popper? These are some of the questions you must ask yourself when you make bread.

In an hour or two, the dough will have grown to about twice its size. Continue to item C for the exciting conclusion.

B:Stick the dough in the fridge and stumble to bed. In the morning (good morning!), bring it out and let it warm up to room temperature. It should have gotten about twice as big as it was last night. Continue to item C for the end of the adventure.

C:At this point, the bread's a bit big for its britches, so you can teach it who's boss. Whack it around until it deflates. Do NOT try this technique on your kids. If you do, they will eventually tower over you, scowl, and refuse to pay for your nursing home, and you'll be sorry. You do not have to worry about that with the bread.

Cut the dough in half (you're making two loaves). Pat the dough into roughly loaf-shaped wads, and place the wads in greased loaf pans. There are techniques and tips and gimmicks and tools that are involved in shaping dough into loaves. I'm not going to get into all that here, because this bread will either be delicious and wonderful, or delicious, wonderful, and perfect looking, and, well, what does it matter for humble bread like this? I'm sure Chef Google could help you with that, if you're interested and you don't know how.